<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Promises by PumpkinSpiceHimbo</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805624">Promises</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinSpiceHimbo/pseuds/PumpkinSpiceHimbo'>PumpkinSpiceHimbo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, F/M, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Whump, no happy ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:27:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinSpiceHimbo/pseuds/PumpkinSpiceHimbo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix has not seen Sylvain since he defected with the Black Eagles at the start of the war, but he is rumoured to be among their ranks as the Strike Force descends upon Arianrhod. Felix prepares for their final confrontation, resolved to bring an end to the Empire's push toward Fhirdiad or die trying.</p>
<p>Written for #FE3HWhumpWeek prompt #2 - Carved Mark, Blood from the Mouth, Stabbed</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sounds of the battle drew closer and Felix could feel his teeth grind in anticipation. The sensation was a familiar one now, countless falling to his blades as this wretched war waged on, but his stomach was sour and there was bile in the back of his throat. Men clustered around him, waiting for orders that he would never issue, milling about their lord without realizing they were abandoned. It was their fault if they weren’t expecting this fate, he had reassured himself, though it did nothing to ease the burden of their wasted lives.</p>
<p>The Strike Force was decimating all in their wake, precious few able to retreat before they were slaughtered, splattered against the stone or reduced to dust on the wind. His eyes searched the front as it moved, each opening in their battered defenses revealing yet another familiar face. Somewhere within him there was a desperate hope that their numbers had been thinned, that he would be left unfulfilled, that his blade would break no oaths.</p>
<p>There would be no such luck today.</p>
<p>It was impossible to mistake the Lance, glowing and writhing as it cut great swaths through the crowd, insatiable and indomitable. The arc was one he knew all too well, any final doubts dashed as to its wielder. Long, sweeping attacks, the sort that left him wide open, reckless and devastating in equal measure, were all that Felix needed to confirm his fears.</p>
<p>Sylvain.</p>
<p>His men saw their fate approaching, the panicked murmuring beginning to spread through them of their reaper’s advance. They knew him, they all knew him, and they knew the power that only he could wield. The power that had been missing at their backs for years, the power that left their borders all but unprotected against the invading forces from the north. Felix swallowed the acid on his tongue, the hand once resting upon his hilt tightening in preparation.</p>
<p>“Run, if that is what you wish,” Felix announced to the air before him, refusing to meet any eyes that turned his way. “Live with your cowardice, or die to his blade.”</p>
<p>Some took his allowance to escape, their boots scrabbling against the brick, diving further back into the Maiden. Others stayed steadfast, though cowered behind him, ready to defend only if he fell, only if absolutely required.</p>
<p>That was how he needed it to be.</p>
<p>It was clear that Sylvain had seen him too, his press forward hastened, the ground between them eroding by the second. His own battalion struggled to keep up, no orders given to them as their lord rushed forward.</p>
<p>Was he so eager to meet his end? Was he coming to plead some desperate case and return to them? Would he beg Felix to save himself?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>‘<em>What would you do?</em>’</p>
<p>Ingrid’s breath plumed around her face as she spoke, pale eyes watching Felix for his response. He said nothing at first, though his stomach clenched, empty and roiling. The dawn was just beginning to break, painting the sky in lovely purples and golds, and their troops were gorging themselves in preparation for battle. They had stolen away after meeting with Rodrigue, his scouts having reported what they both had feared, leaving behind their meals. Ingrid swore it would be better motivation to fight hungry, but he was no fool.</p>
<p>‘<em>Kill him, of course,</em>’ Felix said simply. Her breath caught, the steam hitching, trembling from her parted lips before they pressed thin. ‘<em>I don’t know what other answer you could possibly expect.</em>’</p>
<p>Ingrid turned away, back over the wall and toward the horizon, the future marching steadily toward them.</p>
<p>‘<em>Even if he surrenders</em>?’</p>
<p>‘<em>He made his choice.</em>’</p>
<p>Ingrid was too sentimental for either of their tastes. This was the first time she admitted it out loud, but Felix would not allow it to linger once spoken. They couldn’t afford to hesitate, if the rumours were to be believed. Sylvain would strike them down as easily as any other, and any plan but direct and swift opposition was one that would cost them their lives.</p>
<p>‘<em>If you can’t do it, leave now,</em>’ Felix said after a pause, his voice harsh in a way that he had not used with her for years. Ingrid flinched slightly but remained where she was, eyes searching the empty field before them.</p>
<p>‘<em>I won’t run away</em>,’ she asserted, and her gloves creaked as her grip tightened on her spear. ‘ <em> They’re all counting on us</em>.’</p>
<p>Felix said nothing. He didn’t need to explain his intention to stand his ground. He had never retreated, not once, since Duscur nearly a decade before. He would not do so now, and especially not in the face of Sylvain. He was more than a match for his former companion. He knew him all too well. There was nothing Sylvain could do that would surprise him. Chasing after the new professor on a whim, defecting completely as the war broke, standing amongst their ranks as they ravaged the land he had once called home, all of it was perfectly within his character, or lack thereof. He ran from responsibility at every opportunity, why wouldn’t he abdicate completely to avoid the path laid before him?</p>
<p>Ingrid’s hand squeezed around Felix’, drawing his eyes to meet hers as she fit their fingers together. He felt the instinct to recoil, to grunt out something about being fine, but her gaze was too earnest to rebuff so callously.</p>
<p>‘<em>I won’t abandon you, Felix</em>,’ she said softly, heartbreakingly sincere. It made his chest tighten and the long-suffered ache within resurfaced. ‘<em>We’ll survive this together</em>.’</p>
<p>‘<em>There is no guarantee that I will be there to protect you on the battlefield</em>,’ Felix warned.</p>
<p>‘<em>And no guarantee that I can protect you, either,</em>’ Ingrid challenged, and her spear fell to the crook of her arm, her other hand coming to fully enclose his. She smiled confidently, then added, ‘<em>But that’s exactly why we need to promise each other we’ll live to see tomorrow.</em>’</p>
<p>‘<em>Promise to live, huh,</em>’ Felix repeated, the ache deepening.</p>
<p>‘<em>Together,</em>’ Ingrid confirmed with a squeeze.</p>
<p>‘<em>Together</em>,’ Felix swore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could hear the hoofbeats now, the iron shoes ringing against the stone beneath, echoing off the buildings within the walls, absolutely maddening. More of his men faltered as Sylvain rode them down, lance to the side, ready to strike. Felix lowered himself slightly, tense and ready to respond. It was a sloppy approach, likely intentionally so, a cat playing with its prey, but he would not drop his guard for an instant.</p>
<p>As the horse closed, Felix rushed forward, his sword striking the Lance, equally met by Sylvain’s momentum. The Lance deflected and the horse continued past, Felix spinning to face the follow-up he knew would never come. They were reversed, their respective battalions swapped but unsure if they should rush in. Aegis burned with power, daring any to try.</p>
<p>“Hold!” Sylvain called as he looped around, horse now at a casual trot. He was smiling, just like always, Lance loosely couched beneath his right arm, barely ready for an attack, in opposition or in defense. He pulled the reigns at the last moment, just out of Felix’ rushing range, coming to a complete stop.</p>
<p>Somewhere beyond, there was an explosion, some great magic loosed that rattled the mortar from the stones, the sound of broken daub raining down in its wake, punctuated by falling bodies. Neither of them looked toward it, even as the smoke and dust crawled toward them.</p>
<p>It was Sylvain who spoke first.</p>
<p>“Hey, Felix,” he said simply. He waited, his horse’s tail lashing impatiently. Felix said nothing, knowing Sylvain hated the silence, knowing he was just as restless as his mount. After a moment, he shifted in his saddle, and the Lance betrayed him with a hungry shiver, the bone clacking and grinding. “Remember when we were kids and we made a promise about dying together?”</p>
<p>Felix’ pulse pounded and he clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. It was a rhetorical question, a strike from afar, good tactics for someone with no remorse. It was an underhanded move, but that was no surprise, given his opponent. It was a relief, in a way. He needn’t worry about his own callousness anymore.</p>
<p>“I remember,” he finally responded, cold and sharp as the blade in his hand.</p>
<p>Sylvain’s smile widened slightly as his horse pawed the ground, his seeming ease nothing more than a cheap façade. It was nothing Felix hadn’t seen before, and was nothing he would be disarmed by now.</p>
<p>“Well, seems we're about to kill each other.” His voice was wry, but slightly breathless, his stare unblinking and dangerous.</p>
<p>Slowly, Felix’ lips parted, cracking into a bitter smile, a soft sound something like a laugh escaping him. He lowered once more, the sole of his boot scraping against the grit as he assumed a proper stance, goading his opponent to action.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Sylvain,” he replied defiantly, though his throat tightened at the utterance of his name. He had not spoken it in years, not directly, not to anyone else. “You'll die first.”</p>
<p>Sylvain said nothing, merely shrugged, grin frozen in place. His heels dug into his horse and it reared slightly in response, looping to pick up speed for his first real attack, then galloping directly toward Felix.</p>
<p>There was something to be said about diligent training and poring over tomes of maneuvers from the world over. It was something he had shared with Ingrid these past few years, though she often waxed philosophical in her battle tactic studies. Strategy and leadership were things Felix could not be less interested in, but she met him in the middle, showing him diagrams and stances, a dozen bookmarks spread throughout the pages for his benefit, even as he chided her for wasting her time. They still found themselves on the proving grounds, crude replicas of the diagrams scribbled onto parchment, wooden training weapons at the ready. They drilled them again and again, at low speed initially, but ever increasing until they could properly spar.</p>
<p>The tactics required a boldness only Felix reliably possessed, with quick reflexes and strength to back up the confidence. His body moved automatically as Sylvain approached, running directly at the Lance, sword at the ready. Polearms were strong against swords on the ground, nearly undefeatable when paired with shields, but the horse reversed that advantage, or so they had found. Once past the bladed head, the added reach meant nothing, and rushing forward, there was little Sylvain was able to do to defend.</p>
<p>Felix could feel the Lance catch on Aegis, ripping him sideways, his blade successfully reflecting the attack but his counter missing widely. It set him spinning away from the horse as Sylvain passed, hooves clattering rapidly as it banked for a follow-up. Felix hit the ground and rolled, immediately unstrapping the shield in the precious few moments he had between strikes. It flared as he threw it toward his rattled and abandoned men, then fell lifelessly to the ground, useless so far away.</p>
<p>"Holding back?" he taunted, poised once more for his counter attack.</p>
<p>"I'll do what needs to be done!" Sylvain announced, couching the Lance and spurring his horse into a renewed gallop.</p>
<p>"It’s too late for you!" Felix shouted back, no longer weighed down, sprinting forward for his final strike.</p>
<p>“Let’s end this!”</p>
<p>A couched spear was solid, but in this case, only when held cross-body. Felix had the advantage still, nimble and flexible, running between Lance and horse, his blade sliding up the handle as it deflected. With nothing to stop it, he drove it easily across Sylvain’s unprotected throat, the tip plunging through the soft flesh beneath his jaw. The momentum carried him clear out of the saddle, his body landing in a loud clatter of platemail as his horse continued on alone.</p>
<p>It took a moment for Felix to steady himself again, his eyes following the Lance as it bounced and rolled away from them both. Out of reach, it too fell limp and dormant, impotent without its crest. Behind him, Felix could hear the terrified rabble of Sylvain’s battalion, and he spared them a single glance before they trampled each other in their attempt to retreat.</p>
<p>“Go.”</p>
<p>In that moment, the precious few of his own men that remained rushed forward, chasing them down in their cowardice, emboldened by their commander’s fall. Felix did not watch them as they reached their quarry, the sounds of slaughter lost amid all else. Sylvain lay before him, unmoving, bleeding out on the pavement.</p>
<p>Felix approached slowly, his heart racing, blood icy cold with adrenaline. Somewhere inside, he was screaming, the terrible, heartbroken sound of a child that he had only heard once before, when Dimitri had risen and the boar fixed him in his bloody gaze for the first time. It cried again now when he could not, when everything he had known was rendered worthless, when his loss was at its peak.</p>
<p>Sylvain stared up at him as he approached, eyes frantic but already clouding, the light leaving by the moment. Felix could feel the warmth on his tongue, the sharp tang of magic waiting to be spoken into the air, but he swallowed it back with the bile, refusing his instinct to try to fix what was so irreparably broken. Sylvain did not speak either, his lips moving mutely, only blood bubbling past them. It wouldn’t be much longer, not as each heartbeat eagerly added to the pool below, gushing freely from his neck.</p>
<p>“I made a new promise,” Felix said, though his voice was hoarse and thin. He could see Sylvain’s hand twitch from the corner of his eye but he could not bear to look away from his bloodstained face. He should abandon him here to die alone, just as he had so seemingly desired, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It was weak, and it was selfish, but for the last moments of his life, Sylvain was his again.</p>
<p>It took seconds for him to bleed out, both an eternity and the blink of an eye, and then the red foam settled and he was still, the gash slowing to a trickle. Felix took a long, shallow breath, and his hand relaxed, sword clattering to the ground, knees buckling beneath him now that Sylvain could no longer see him. He collapsed onto his chest, the metal sticky, steaming slightly as the blood cooled upon its surface. He smelled like Duscur, hot and metallic and overwhelming, the blood washing away the cologne he had surely left just below his ears, the sweet, heady smell of vanilla, sandalwood and musk.</p>
<p>There was a battle raging, but for once Felix had no interest in being a part of it. He was in their world of two, as Sylvain had loved to call it, though there was no summer breeze or tickling grass or lazy clouds to watch. Maybe in a different life, they would survive this war together, maybe he would’ve softened and Sylvain matured, and they would’ve shared that world again as they had as children, but this life was one of suffering, and of loss, and there was no use pretending it would end any other way.</p>
<p>His hand found Sylvain’s hair but his glove dulled the touch, and he rose sharply, ripping each off in turn. It was soft, so very soft, surely freshly washed before the battle filled it with sweat and dust. He always joked about leaving behind a beautiful corpse, and Felix wondered bitterly if he’d joked about it to his reflection as he twisted beeswax into the ends that morning. He’d always wanted to touch it, and to stroke his cheek as he did now, while it was still warm enough to imagine alive.</p>
<p>It was hard not to wonder if things could’ve been different for them all. If his love could have been enough, if he wasn’t so afraid of giving it. Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid… could any of them have ended differently, if it were not for his stubbornness? It was pointless to wonder about, too late to try, and yet his lips found Sylvain’s warm, and wet, and repulsive. And yet, he kissed him, and the tears rolled from his eyes for the first time in years, and mourned them all.</p>
<p>When the blade parted the skin on Sylvain’s forehead, it did not bleed, grinning only slightly at the sky above. Felix traced the symbol gently with his knife, for he had no sacred ashes to draw it with, but Seiros would surely forgive him for having to make due. He leaned down and placed a single trembling kiss upon the wound, unable to whisper the prayer that accompanied the ritual, knowing the Goddess would surely hear it in his heart. He could feel the blood flaking from his skin, but he could not bear to wipe away the last of his memories so soon.</p>
<p>He stood, turning away from the body, wishing desperately for a moment that he had bothered to learn how to create flames, but he knew he could not speak the spell even if he wove it, and Sylvain would lay as he was regardless, cold and forgotten.</p>
<p>The Strike Force had moved on, he noted, taking measured, shaking breaths. The clashes were quieter now, the air far too still, save for the whimpering cries of the dying. The final stand, it seemed, was failing. There was no sound nor movement from the west, the clash at the front long since abandoned. All that was left was the rear, where Cornelia waited with her wind-up toys.</p>
<p>‘Some promises were made to be broken,’ Felix thought, his feet beginning to move toward his final battle. ‘But some can still be kept.’</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>